


Sweat

by Semi_problematic



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Weecest, Wincest - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-25
Updated: 2017-04-25
Packaged: 2018-10-24 01:07:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,195
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10731006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Semi_problematic/pseuds/Semi_problematic
Summary: It's really hard to be in love with Dean, especially in the summer.





	Sweat

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first actual wincest fanfic so please go easy on me.

Dean Winchester was a piece of art, but not like the new contemporary kind, more like the old kind, with tears and ripped edges and fading colors. But that made him even more beautiful. Dean Winchester was covered in marks, scars, freckles, and even cuts, and they all added up to the beautiful map of his body. His arms were strong, built from working out, fighting, and all of the hunts he had been on. His hands were big and calloused, his finger nails uneven from him chewing on them. His voice was deep and smooth, kind of like warm honey. Beautiful eyes that were bright green, kind of like the color of grass in the summer. Lips that look undeniably soft and are almost as tempting as the devil himself. Dean Winchester was art work and Sam would stare at him all day if he could.

Actually, for most of the morning, Sam had been staring at him. Dad had them pack the night before for the cabin they were heading to. Bobby called John about a week ago telling him about a hunt in a small town surrounded by woods. John found them a cabin for the boys to stay in while he was out hunting. And for once, Sam was excited, he got a entire cabin, and an entire summer to spend with his big brother. Nothing could ruin that. As for the staring, Dean had been asleep, it was something Sam could always laugh about. Dean could fall asleep anywhere if he was tied enough. 

The windows were rolled down half way while John sped down the highway. It was barely five in the morning and the highways were still almost empty minus a few semis. Dean had his arms crossed, his head leaned back against the back of the seat, his head tilted in an angle that made his jaw look sharper than all of dad's weapons  combined. His feet were stretched out sideways across the floor of the car, his boots kicked off. As for John, he had his hands on the steering wheel at ten and two, his body leaning back against the car seat casually. He had the radio turned up loud enough that you could hear it over the rushing morning wind but still low enough that he could bark orders at the two boys. And Sam, well, Sam had a thin quilt laying over his lap, party laying on Dean too. A book rested on top of the quilt and on top of the quilt laid Sam's hands. His temple was pressed against the car window, his eyes flicking back and forth from Deans body back over to the black tar road that would be heating up under the sunlight in hours. 

Sam's stomach growled and Sam had to force himself not to touch it. He'd refused to eat breakfast, it was fast food, and all he wanted was to stay at the motel long enough to make himself some healthy breakfast, but John refused, and like his father, Sam was stubborn too, so he refused to eat breakfast and now his stomach was killing him. They weren't going to eat for another five or six hours and Sam sure as hell wasn't going to lose the fight and admit to being hungry thus admitting John was right. It was stupid, Sam knew that, and he was sure if Dean was awake Dean would tell him the same thing. Sam turned everything into a fight with everyone once he became a teenager. It was constantly at war with everyone but Dean. Dean had tried to explain tons of times that Sam shouldn't be making everything with dad a mini fight or battle, that there were way bigger fights and wars to be won, and those trivial small fights weren't going to prepare him for the "real world." Sam didn't listen to him, it was stupid, his dad was stupid and his dad gave out stupid orders, if Dean wasn't going to call him out on his bullshit then Sam would. And he did.

You wouldn't be able to count how many fights Sam had picked while they were driving. And don't even get them started on the fights picked about school or the fights picked about dinner. If Sam disagreed with John it would turn into a full blown war with one or even both Winchesters storming out leaving Dean to calm both down. Well, more just calming Sam. Sam was a teenager with more than enough raging emotions and his asshole dad wasn't helping him control them. So Dean did. And during the short time when Dean started calming him down after fights Sam started to get even more emotions and even worse ones.

He knew at fourteen that he liked Dean too much, he knew it when Dean touched his arm after his third bad fight with dad over something that he couldn't even remember if he tried. Dean rubbed his arm and called him Sammy in this calm voice and god, Sam's heart exploded. Sam would swear that his entire body was freezing cold until Dean did that because God his entire body flushed warm, his cheeks heated up, his veins were on fire. That's when the undeniable truth hit him like a sucker punch. He was in love with his big brother. He knew it was wrong, by that age you either were taught about bad relationships or heard jokes where how sick incest is was the butt of the joke. He never told anyone, he never would, but he needed to get the feelings out. So he started writing. Filling up notebook after notebook about dreams he had about Dean or about something cute Dean did and even a few short stories where things were different, where they could love each other and where they coud be happy. During the summer Sam kept the notebooks in his duffle bag and during the school year he kept the notebooks in his backpack. 

Now, it wasn't like Sam never tried to unlike Dean, because he did. That's actually how the notebook started. Him writing about how sick he was for wanting his big brother to have eyes on him and only him. Him writing about how on top of him being in love with his brother he was also gay. It was scary, it made his stomach turn for weeks and weeks. He tried his best to like girls, but it didn't work, not once. He kissed a girl and he almost cried because it wasn't working and he needed it to work. He couldn't be a freak, he couldn't let the bullies be right about him. After girls didn't work he moved to boys, which was impossible because the only boy he could really ever focus on was Dean. And if he did like a boy the boy would end up hating him, just like everyone else. By the end of his freshman year his notebook about Dean had gone from angry thoughts and cries for help to lists and entries about how strong and sweet his big brother was. 

Sam opened the book that was laying on his lap as a desperate attempt to drag himself away from the aching pain in his stomach. The book he was reading was The Outsiders, one of his favorites and one of the only books he could fit into his pockets. (He carried books everywhere, just to make sure he'd always have a distraction.) The Outsiders was one of his favorites along with Harry Potter and Of Mice and Men. This was barely a distraction though because after a few minutes of his eyes scanning over the same words he'd read a million times his eyes fell back on his big brother. 

Dean was a good man, no matter how many times he'd deny it, he was a good man, Sam knew it. He was really strong, he got in fights and won, fights against people and monsters. He knew how to hunt better then their dad ever did, he was almost as good as Bobby. Sam even told him that, but Dean didn't listen, he just laughed and ruffled Sam's hair and said the same name dripped in honey. Sammy.

Sam rolled his window down all the way, leaning his head against the cat door, letting the breeze hit his face. Summer came with a smell to Sam, but didn't it come that way with everyone? Sam's summer smelled like the inside of a car, the smell of salt water, and Dean. Deans cologne. Deans leather jacket, which was rightfully their dads, but Dean wears it. Another thing Sam loved about the summer was the way you can feel the air slowly shift from spring to summer, the way it slowly heats up and how the warm summer air can feel so cool if you're going fast enough.

Closing his eyes, Sam tried to imagine the way their cabin will look. Will it be big and new? The kind that rich people have? Or will it be old and small with two bedrooms and aging wood? Sam secret hoped it was the second. He loved old things, old books, old buildings, old cars. He loved old stories the most, though, that's what he grew up on. Tales of monsters and the old books that Dean grew up on. Sam would say he loved old things because Dean was old, but he wasn't. He was only twenty and he was just now starting to look it. Dean hated his freckles because they make him look like a baby or at least that's what he says. Sam adored his freckles, his teacher always told him that they were angel kisses, but when Sam told Dean that, Dean hit him and told him to never say that again. They were children, Sam was only six, but he learned to never mention it again. So now, whenever Dean complains about his freckles being childish, Sam adds his dimples, saying they make him look like a baby. 

They were headed to some small town in Idaho named Mccall. Dad had mentioned that there was a lot of water and that they could go swimming while he was out, but only if they went together. Sam didn't want to admit it to himself but he knew the truth of the matter was that Dean will leave as soon as he can to go to the nearest bar to find the prettiest girls of the town, he would bring them home and sleep with them. Because he was Dean Winchester and because apparently that's what Winchesters do. Sam hasn't seen his dad do it much, sleep around, probably because John left so much, but he'd seen Dean do it every week since he turned sixteen. Sam didn't like it, he didn't like his big brother touching other people and he sure as hell didn't like his big brother sleeping around as if sex was nothing. Sex meant something, at least it did to Sam, he wasn't going to give it away just for fun. He couldn't even if he wanted to, anyway. He didn't like girls but the few times girls did like him they changed their minds as soon as Sam opened his mouth. And for boys, he knew it'd never happen. Kids get beat for being gay at school and Sam can't risk giving them another excuse to hit him. So he would wait. And he was okay with it.

His eyes were tugged back to Dean but this time it was because the amulet Sam gave him was getting caught in the sunlight, the light hitting Sam in the corner of his eyes. Sam shut his book, scooting across the seat, leaning against Dean, resting his head on his shoulder and closing his eyes. The heat radiating off of Dean made Sam shiver and tug the blanket up over them even more.

Dean shifted, rubbing his face with one hand. "Hm.." he hummed, blinking his eyes open, slowly. He looked down at Sam, smiling a little. "Sam." He nudged him. "Sammy."

Sam sighed, burying his face in his shoulder. "I'm tired, stop moving."

"You're sixteen, get a pillow." Dean grinned, moving his arm around.

Sam wrapped his arms around Deans arm, sighing. "I do what I want." 

"Idiot."

" 'M smarter than you." Sam hummed.

Dean scoffed, pulling his arm away, laying it across the back of the car seat. "You wish."

"Sh, I'm sleeping."

Dean flicked his head. "I was too until your giant body laid on me."

"You're a giant." Sam yawned, pretending to sleep.

"You're almost as tall as me." Dean mumbled, running his fingers through Sam's hair. "So then we're both giants."

Sam nodded, hiding his face in Deans neck. "Lemme sleep."

"How long have we been driving?"

"An hour."

"And you're just now sleeping?"

"Mhm."

Dean sighed, slumping down in his seat. "Fine, come here.." Dean pulled Sam closer, smiling when Sam buried his face in his neck again. "Now sleep before I change my mind."

"Kay.." Sam yawned once more. "Goodnight."


End file.
